


fallout

by axzanier



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, bucky is way too serious, gods i suck at tags, life goes on - Freeform, sequel to expendable, shit happens, steve's dead now what, stupid brain had more to write
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-27 11:14:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13879692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/axzanier/pseuds/axzanier
Summary: "Oh god, what the fuck am I going to do?" My voice cracked, the whole of my current untenable reality crashing down on my shoulders like an avalanche. I couldn't do this. Not without him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had a couple scenes viciously attack me and demand to be written that didn't fit in the expendable narrative, so here they are.

fallout

 

The docs had cleared me for light duty. Assuring me that everything looked good both with my recovery and the… and the baby. Healthy and growing as expected in these early stages.

My unexpected condition not widely known for obvious reasons. Only those who absolutely needed to know knew. As well as those who had figured it out. The head wound had healed into a rakish scar where no hair grew so I just kept that side short, showing off the reminder that I'd damn near died on that battlefield. Thor had visited twice, both times complimenting the scar and requesting that I tell the tale so that he could share it with other warriors, assuring me that when the day came I would be seated at the great table in Valhalla, which I'd mentally scoffed at. Then he introduced me to Brunnhilde, an actual honest to god Valkyrie and his words which I thought to be placating more than anything suddenly carried a weight I hadn't expected.

I'd finally gotten to meet Dr. Banner, who had to be the kindest, most gentle man I had ever met in my life. To know that he also contained all the rage and anger of the Hulk amazed me. He had been brought in to consult on my current unique condition. He'd been unfailingly polite given he was not that kind of doctor, but once I'd informed the docs exactly who the father was a whole new slew of potential issues had come to light.

As far as anyone knew no one had gotten pregnant by a super soldier before. Add in the fact that my situation had been odd from the get-go… well, they started inventing tests first to verify that, yes, Steve Rogers was indeed the father, and then to try to discover if the properties of the serum had carried through to the human to be. Most of those tests would need to wait until the baby was bigger as they would be unavoidably invasive.

They seemed far more worried about the baby than the woman who carried it.

I firmly believed I had gone insane. Those memories of other lives, other mes, alternate histories and events that I had hoped would fade as I recovered from the concussion only became more clear and settled into my bones as being just as real as the track I  _knew_  to be my reality. Which, near as I could tell had been knocked off its original track ever so slightly.

I had read the reports a few of them had managed to give detailing the world and universe-spanning battle with Thanos, which suggested that he had played with time, tried to stop the Avengers by making certain they never existed. Including one timeline where Steve had been found in the wreck of Red Skull's Valkyrie before it had been swallowed by the ice. I knew that one well thanks to history books and the fact that he was a fucking immortal. He'd gone on to a happily ever after with Peggy by his side. No children, but a damn good life. She had aged, while he hadn't. Hydra hadn't rebuilt itself within SHIELD. The SSR never changing its name and had still been in service when the Chitauri arrived in New York.

That's when Captain America had returned to the spotlight, not looking a day older than when he'd retired after WWII. From there forward that history followed a path similar to the current one, with him still dying at the hands of Thanos to save the universe.

Many of them ended at the same point. Some choice made that left Thanos unable to control the timeline he had tried to rewrite.

The one it had settled into the one I had woken up in, just slightly different from the one I felt certain I belonged in.

I paced about the suite, wearing one of Steve's tees, a pair of jeans and not much else. I raked my hands through my hair, trying to sort out the realities the constantly pressured me for attention. When asked a question I would need to sort through dozens of potentials before choosing what I hoped to be the right answer. Clint had logged my slow responses to "baby brain" but I had seen the concern grow day by day.

He'd been nothing but understanding and supportive. I'd been grateful beyond measure especially once I'd learned that he not only had a family, but they'd been a casualty of the war with Thanos. His reality dumped on its side in the most final manner possible. He'd lost everything and had nothing left but the family he had made here.

He'd taken up residence in one of the many suites and rarely left these days.

I had tried to explain to a couple of the head shrinking docs on staff what had been going on in my head, but they had logged it off to battle trauma or a side effect of the concussion. I didn't know if they simply didn't understand or were, far more likely, total idiots.

" _You have guests approaching the door, should I send them away?_ " Ares had moved in as well, though only my suite and for training so far. FRIDAY still handled the majority of the day to day human organization. She had been to war, but in the end, she had been designed as a butler program, not like Ares who lived for the battle.

"Who is it?"

" _Wilson and Barnes_."

I wondered what had brought Bucky to the compound. He'd taken my offer of living in the converted warehouse apartment, especially when he'd learned its location fell within his old stomping grounds of Brooklyn. We spoke often by one means or another and he seemed to be doing well and adjusting to his new lease on life.

"Let 'em in."

I didn't stop my pacing other than to acknowledge their arrival when they came in the door. Sam looked worried. Bucky looked enigmatic as usual. He could convey a ton of emotion with his eyes alone, but the Winter Soldier still lurked behind those baby blues and he had that mask firmly in place today.

"Hey, kiddo, heard they cleared you for duty."

"Light duty," I reiterated, not wanting him to get it into his head that I'd be going out on any ops in the near future. I was reasonably certain Sam had been told about my  _condition_ , but not Bucky. Least I hadn't told either of them and I had no idea where Hill and the sometimes here but mostly not Fury had placed them in the hierarchy. Steve and Tony had been the leaders - Steve tactical, Tony R&D - but no decision had been made about who would fill those roles. With the Accords being reconsidered in the wake of Thanos' visit no one had been designated team leader. Hill still ran the day to day operations of the Avengers. Pepper Potts still ran Stark Industries. The only ops these days involving recovery. Large swathes of the planet had been knocked back to the stone age. It might take years before some areas were even livable again.

It was an organizational nightmare to put it simply and Hill had already approached me about utilizing the Expendables to assist. I'd put it to a vote, those that had recovered enough to get back to work and received a unanimous yay. They'd been brought in assigned rooms and those cleared for duty put to work with along with the remaining Avengers.

Sam, Clint, and Nat currently played supervisory roles more than anything for the moment. Which made sense. None of us had walked away unscathed and we all needed time to heal even if the wounds were far more mental and emotional than physical.

I suddenly needed to get out of the suite. Needed to be away from here and all the memories; three sets now thanks to my mind deciding to play tricks on me. Steve and I had had our problems, mostly due to miscommunication than anything of real substance. Me knowing it couldn't be forever and him sometimes being too focused on the work and forgetting how to just be people with each other. We had worked through it and come out the other side stronger.

We'd had plans for the future. Foolish ones perhaps in light of exactly how dangerous our lives could be. But we'd had them anyway. Had hope.

And now… "Oh god, what the fuck am I going to do?" My voice cracked, the whole of my current untenable reality crashing down on my shoulders like an avalanche. I couldn't do this. Not without him.

I wrapped my arms around my abdomen, holding close the only remaining connection I had to him. I met Bucky's concerned gaze. "I can't do this," I whispered hoarsely, hot tears I had refused to submit to previously pricking at my eyes until they overflowed and ran down my cheeks. "I can't fucking do this."

The two men stared at me in shock and surprise as I spun about and headed for the kitchen. I went to cabinet reserved for the few bottles of hard liquor we'd kept on hand, grabbed the vodka, twisted off the top and took a long swig.

Sam squawked, "What the hell, girl."

I'd just lifted the bottle to my lips a second time, fully intending to drown my sorrows, when Sam pulled it from my grip, I growled, "Damn it, Wilson, gimme that back."

"No."

I reached for another bottle only to have him grab me by the arm and drag me out of reach.

Bucky's was suddenly there, looming over Sam with that flat dangerous expression on his face. "Let her go."

"Barnes, you don't-"

Bucky reached out with his cybernetic arm and with all due caution pried Sam's hand from my arm. "If she wants to drown her sorrows with alcohol let her. I wish I could join her."

Sam sputtered for a long moment then shouted at full volume, "She's pregnant, you idiot. With your best friend's kid."

Bucky went frighteningly still that heavy gaze turning to me instead.

Convinced it had to be a false memory that I'd gotten stuck in because how else could it be true, I reached for another bottle only to have Bucky's warm calloused hand rest atop mine.

"Is that true?" The hope in his voice a living thing that almost drove away the ache and disbelief away.

"No."

"What? Yes. They confirmed it when she transferred to the Compound," Sam explained to Bucky shooting me a look that screamed betrayal.

"No," I shouted, slamming the cabinet door hard enough to crack the frame when it impacted it. "I can't be."

Bucky tilted his head and watched me with care. "Why not?"

I shook my head. "You wouldn't believe me."

"I will."

And he seemed so reasonable, so goddamned willing to listen that I told him.

"We used a fucking condom. I had an implant. Yet when I woke up it was gone and I was a confused as fuck single parent to be." Bucky glanced over at Sam who stood there wide-eyed. "You know Steve can't have kids, not with a mortal anyway."

"In theory," Sam pointed out.

I gave a reluctant nod of agreement at his modifier. "Doesn't change the facts."

"Like what?" Bucky asked, keeping his tone calm and quiet as if knowing I could spook again at any moment.

"Like being two weeks further along than should be possible."

Sam nodded slowly, then my words apparently sank in. "Wait. What?"

"I'm eight weeks along at a best guess by the most expensive and accurate machines Stark can build. It's not possible." I'd had a hard time wrapping my mind around that one. I should have been all of days pregnant when they'd discovered it at the hospital. Not weeks.

"Why not?" Sam questioned.

I glared at him, wanting more to drink just to get through this awkward discussion. "Because I only had sex with Steve the night before the battle. Fuck, hours before."

Bucky snorted at my phrasing. "Wait, I thought Myla met up with you a couple weeks before that fight?" he questioned Sam. "Uh, something about a weapons deal he wanted to break up."

Sam nodded in agreement. "Myla, maybe you don't remember because of the head injury."

I shook my head. "No. Or yes. Or both really." I rubbed my forehead his words having brought that other memory to the fore, another bit of my history unceremoniously rewritten. Not having a clue how to explain what was going on in my head I growled softly under my breath. "I think I'm broken," I confessed.

Bucky set a hand on my back and steered me back to the living room, encouraging me to sit down. Sam tag teamed me by bringing a glass of water and tissues. I hadn't even realized I'd still been crying. Sam sat down kitty-corner from me while Bucky cut the imposing figure, arms crossed and gazing down at me with a blank look.

"Kiddo, talk to me."

"Why? So you can say it's just PTSD too?" The frustration must have been evident in my voice.

"Shit, is that what the docs have been telling you?"

I nodded, miserable and lost.

Sam turned to Bucky. "My's got a scary-ass memory. So if she says she remembers something…"

"She does," Bucky finished. "So what do you remember?"

"Lives. Different versions of this timeline. At least a dozen of them. They all pretty much converge at a moment that occurred while I was unconscious so I can't pinpoint it exactly."

"Then how do you know that particular one is the right one?"

"I just do. This reality, this timeline changed while I was out of it. And now I'm pregnant and Steve's gone and I don't know if I've gone insane or am just living some weird dream while in a coma." I had considered and rejected that option more than a few times. Not that I would have any way of knowing which would be the truth if my mind was simply creating a reality for me to live in. Made sense that details would be off and that the impossible could come to pass. Given I'd gone from vomiting from a concussion to morning sickness I had to admit this one felt damn real.

They exchanged a look. "Are you sure?" Bucky asked.

"As I can be," I told him. "Why does it matter?" I still didn't have Steve.

Sam pushed to his feet. "Come on, there's someone you need to meet."

~^~

We went to New York. The quinjet landed at a SHIELD facility that also provided a driver for us. All the big boys playing nice together for the time being. We drove through the traffic to arrive a gorgeous building on Bleecker St.

Sam tapped on the glass, which lowered instantly. "He expecting us?"

The driver shrugged. "Probably."

The driver left us on the curb, Bucky's hand on my back. I hadn't bothered to change, Steve's shirt providing a mix of comfort and pain that forced me to connect with the here and now. Sam trotted up the steps, lifted his hand to knock on a door that swung open under seemingly its own power. I tipped my head up to examine the building in detail.

"Oh, this is the Kamar-Taj."

Sam snapped his head about. "How do you know that?"

"Eye of Agamotto. You think I stopped my research there? Just didn't realize they had a location in New York."

"Good to know our secret society can still keep some secrets."

The newcomer had a resonant voice, dark hair with silver at the temples and dressed like an old-school stage magician.

"Sorry, she's all kinds of trouble," Sam informed the man.

"And in more than a little of it herself, I see." He swung both doors wide. "Please come in."

Sam led the way, Bucky sticking close beside me, wary of everything about him, but not of the man.

"You guys know him?"

They both nodded. "Fought with him. Without him, we might have lost a lot more."

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. This is the path we are on now for good or ill." He gestured towards the seats in what could only be a drawing room. There were cases with esoteric items in them, books by the score, furniture hundreds of years old and an odd sense of peace permeated the air. "Please sit. You have questions."

"And what makes you think you have answers?" I commented, keeping the snark mostly inside. The order he followed believed in magic, real magic, but I had no personal experience of it. No, I didn't assume they had been taking the good drugs, not after everything I had seen during my comparatively short life. Magic being real would be the least surprising of all.

He approached me, hand held out, the scars across his fingers visible as was the slight tremor. "May I?"

I nodded and he took my hand into his warm ones. "Myla, I am Doctor Stephen Strange, Master of the Mystic Arts and this Sanctum."

I recognized the name but didn't even try to pull up from where, who knew how many different versions of him I would get. He did something and for the first time in weeks, my mind settled into one place, one reality, one time stream. it still didn't feel quite right, but at least the overlapping ripples no longer left me freefalling in a void of loss and confusion.

Clearheaded, I gave him a nod. "Thank you," I think I sounded a touch stunned.

"Don't thank me yet." He turned to Sam, "You were right to bring her here, but this might take some time to deal with."

"If you are willing to help, then take as much time as you need, but…"

"But?"

"We won't be leaving without her," Bucky responded.

I leaned over to see around Strange impressed by the warning look on Bucky's face.

"I have no intention of harming her or the child she carries in any way."

"For fuck's sake do I have pregnant tattooed on my forehead or something?"

"No, I read your aura, which is a bit of a jumbled mess by the way." He did something with his hands, golden glowing light forming an intricate pattern in front of him. "You are not insane, by the way." He tipped his head, seeing something in the light that I didn't. "Enhanced?" he questioned.

I shook my head. "No, brain trauma that resulted in a rewiring of my neural functioning. Eidetic memory, both knowledge and physical."

"So you learn quickly and never forget."

"Quickly? Show her something once and she's got it down. And now she's saying she remembers other timelines. I might not understand, but I don't doubt her."

"I can't say I'm surprised. Thanos altered the timeline at least a dozen times before we retrieved the Time Stone. The vast majority of those on the planet will have no idea what happened. Maybe a weird sense of deja vu, but no more than that," Strange explained in a matter of fact tone. "You, on the other hand, remember all of them, don't you?"

I nodded. Desperately thankful that someone not only believed me but could possibly help. "Can you make them go away?"

He shook his head. "I cannot, but I can make certain you come to this one as your default setting, for want of a better term."

"Oh fuck no, this one's wrong."

He raised a single eyebrow. "Why do you say that?"

" 'Cause she's remembering events we were both there for differently," Sam explained when I found my tongue unable to articulate a single word.

"Well, that's odd," Strange admitted. "Are you certain the timeline you are focusing on is the correct one?"

I sighed heavily. "No. But I'm certain it's the right one for me. I feel like everything slipped past me while I stood still. Then somehow rewound before moving forward again. In that overlap of the rewind and restart, things changed. Each equally real, but only one mine." I threw up my hands and stalked towards the nearest window to stare out at the slow rush of humanity moving by. They had no clue. Could just go about their lives as if nothing had interrupted their reality.

I heard Strange move, then a quiet discussion ensued between the three men. I could have chosen to overhear, but didn't care what they specifically said. Not really. I'd gone and fallen into the abyss of insanity, they just needed to figure out how to deal with it. I'd guess drugs except for the potential supersoldier baby I carried. They'd lock me in my suite, keep me content enough and make certain I could do no harm to myself or others and then take away my baby. Take from me all I had left of Steve.

I'd run before I let that happen. Find a place where no one would care about the eccentric pregnant lady who had to spend time figuring out which reality she was in today before making every decision.

Strange returned then, setting a hand on my shoulder to get my attention. "I need to make a call. I'm having tea and food brought up for you. Please stay on this floor if you would."

"Don't trust us?" Bucky asked.

Strange shook his head. "Some of the areas are dangerous if you don't take proper precautions. There's nothing on this floor that can do you any harm."

Sam grunted. "Having seen what you can do in a fight I'll take your word for it. We'll behave."

Strange gave me an appraising look.

"What? I have the feeling that even if I wanted to do something stupid you wouldn't let me."

He leaned in, smelling of mysteries and spices. My memory of him thankfully limited, only the little I had heard on the news and read online after his accident. Still, his alternate lives cascaded through mine. The differences minor for the most part, in all but one of them he lost the use of his hands and his vaunted career. Different car, different road, a different path that still ended at that blank spot in my memory. I staggered back a step, the images refusing to stop this time.

"Your gift is exceedingly powerful."

I forced myself to meet his eyes. "Gift? You make it seem as if I should thankful I'm being driven insane."

"Kiddo, he's trying to help," Sam reminded sounding patronizing to my ears.

"So far all he's done is offer us tea and scones." No, I hadn't reached the cranky portion of my day. I wanted to blame the hormones, and that might have been part of it, but even though healthy, I had slipped down to the end of my exceedingly frayed rope. I had yet to really mourn the loss, I'd been too busy recovering from my own injuries and dealing with my personal reality to face the grief.

Strange actually grinned. "Oh, you're sassy. I like that." He gently grasped my arm. "Please, sit, I'll be back as quickly as I can."

"Why does it matter?" I questioned.

"Because you can see into the multiverse, if only a small portion of it, we know of few mortals who can do that." He took my hand, his fingers rubbing the back of mine, the tremors barely noticeable.

"You didn't lose your hand coordination in one of them," I informed him, almost regretting the words as I spoke them aloud.

"I know, and yet I still chose this path in the end," he told me at just above a whisper his breath hot against my ear.

I stared up at him in shock. "You see them?" I asked, the words barely making a sound, hoping against hope he wasn't saying those words just to appease me in this moment.

He shook his head. "I only see the one Thanos created and the one I reset the universe to. You see far more than that."

"I remember far more than anyone should."

He nodded solemnly. I envy you for that. But I also understand how difficult it must be making your life. I'll be back as quick as I can."

A squeeze of my shoulder and he swept out of the room, the cloak he wore seeming to billow about him, making his departure far more dramatic than necessary. Upon his exit, a young woman entered, clothes similar, but markedly younger in age, carrying a tray laden with goodies. I smelled coffee as opposed to the tea Strange had threatened us with and my stomach growled at the scent. I had not been eating all that well even once the effects of the concussion had eased.

She set the tray on the coffee table in the center of the room, poured three cups of coffee and then left without saying a word.

"Kiddo?" Sam prompted even as he added cream and sugar to the cup he'd claimed as his own.

"Not hungry," I mumbled, turning away to look back out the window. I doubted for an instant he'd let me get away with that, so when I felt a presence beside me I expected Sam.

"Tired?"

I held the twitch inside, shocked it had been Bucky and not Sam to approach me. "Not really. Just... I miss him so fucking much."

The tears I'd given into earlier returned, making me feel like an idiot but he didn't seem to mind.

He set a hand on my upper back. "Me too. I know I haven't been around as much as I should but I needed some time to figure things out, I guess." His fingers gently rubbed up and down, the gesture meant to comfort but it instead pulled up memories of Steve doing the exact same thing and that did not help with the ever-deepening hole in my heart. I shifted away, out of his reach and proceeded to be flooded with guilt by the pain that appeared in his eyes for an instant before he got control of his emotions.

"Sorry," I muttered.

He shook his head. "Don't be. I don't mean to be so familiar, but he wanted me to make certain you were okay."

I wiped at the tears. "Of course he did. Asked you to watch over me and protect me."

He dipped his head down by way of agreement. "It's old-fashioned I know."

"Not for you, it isn't. Not for him. Just don't treat me like some fragile china doll and we'll be fine." I liked Bucky even without not knowing him personally. Steve had told me so much about him, including the hard ones. The ones involving the Winter Soldier. He'd given me full access to all the files so that I would understand. So that when I met Bucky, which Steve had always intended for me to do, I would understand that he had changed. The Hydra programming unavoidably changing him. And yet whatever they'd managed in Wakanda, he'd found far more of his old self, able to shed the programming that made him the Soldier even though he retained the skills and memories. We'd stayed in contact since the funeral, but I'd avoided seeing him in person simply because it hurt too damn much.

And even though I knew he hurt too, I'd forgotten that  _he hurt too._

"Bucky, I-"

He shut me up by pulling me into a hug that I hadn't even realized I needed. "What the hell am I going to do." I sounded whiny even to my ears and wanted to believe that I'd earned it after everything, but I hadn't seen any of them getting all misty-eyed over Steve's death.

Then again I hadn't exactly been hanging around with them for the last month. For all I knew, they'd spent every free moment in their cups in a vain attempt to drown sorrows that simply couldn't be. I know I'd wanted to. They'd been working, integrating the new trainees and the Expendables back into the fold. I'd been supervising my teams, but minimally. Dr. Cho or Bruce would admonish me anytime I tried to do more than reading reports, which is why I'd been doing anything more vigorous like working out, on the sly. That meant alone.

I had grown tired of being alone.

Steve was  _gone_. Never to know of this impossible miracle. Never to know his child. Never to have that normal life he'd so longed for. "How am I supposed to do this alone?" I questioned of the very fabric of the universe itself, knowing fucking well there would be no answer.

Bucky pulled away from me, the sadness replaced with disbelief. "Alone? What makes you think you'll be alone?"

Sam magically appeared then, the affront there for anyone to see. "What the hell are you talking about, girl? You ain't gonna be alone. We'll-"

"I haven't seen you in over a week," I snapped at him. "Don't you dare tell me I haven't been alone. That I won't be alone. I'll be the one sitting by myself in the suite while all of you go off to save the day. I stopped being important the moment they all found out who the father is." I shrugged out of Bucky's hold, not that he'd been doing more than making contact with my arms, thankfully, since if he didn't want me to move I wouldn't be able to.

"This was a bad idea." The need to run swept over me. Not in fear, not really, more concern that my life, that my child's life would never be their own if I stayed.

Bucky must have seen the plan I quickly slapped together that would permit me to get out of the building with minimal effort as he shifted with me, blocking my initial escape route. "No."

"No, what?" I asked in exasperation as I searched for other options that did not involve throwing myself out the window, though I kept that one on the table as a backup plan.

"No, you are not going to run. No, you will not have to do this alone. If no one else I will be there for you. Till the end of the line."

I sneered, "Of course, because of your duty to  _him_. I don't want that. Don't want to force anyone into babysitting me for the next eight months or potentially eighteen years."

"Force? Myla, what is going on in your head right now?" Sam seemed flabbergasted that at what I'd practically screamed at them.

"Well, all of you have made it abundantly clear I'm useless in this condition and that the miracle baby is far more important than me."

The men exchanged a worried look. "Myla, you were literally just cleared for duty this morning," Sam reminded in a soft voice as if afraid I would bolt. "I can promise you that while we're taking the baby into consideration there's no chance we're not going to put you back to work. You should see the laundry list of items I have waiting for you once we've gotten this straightened out."

I blinked. "Really?" No one had said a damn thing to me.

He managed a smile. "Yes, really. We didn't want you stressing over your to-do list while recovering is all. Besides, you had enough to do contacting the families of those you lost."

I'd spent nearly two weeks personally calling each and every one of them. I would have gone in person, but the docs had refused to clear me for any sort of serious travel. My XOs had handled returning any gear or belongings to the next of kin. Thankfully, sad as it might have been, most of my people weren't married or in serious relationships, so it had been to parents and siblings we'd broken the news. Most understandably saddened by the loss, while still proud their child had been part of the reason the Earth still spun on its tilted axis.

"Oh shit," I muttered, the blood draining from my face and making me momentarily dizzy with the speed of it.

"Myla?" Bucky questioned, the concern evident in his eyes alone.

"How am I gonna tell my family? They don't even know I was dating Steve."

Sam snickered. "Really? That's all you're worried about?"

I glared at him. "You do remember who my family is right? Damn straight I'm terrified."

Bucky gave Sam a confused glance. "What? Are they Rockefeller's or something?"

"Or something would be accurate. Are you telling me you care?" Sam snarked and not inaccurately at that. My family a weird combo of one-percenters and down to earth working folk. About a quarter of us in the last few generations had gone into the military in one form or another, so my choice hadn't been all that unusual. Still, given my smarts, they had hoped for something more prestigious. Research scientist, scholar, startup genius, something in one of the fields I'd acquired a Ph.D. in. I'd wanted more than that. More than an ivory tower my mother reveled in.

And I'd found it when I'd been recruited by SHIELD.

And look where that had gotten me.

I shoved away from Bucky and flopped gracelessly into the first overstuffed chair I came across. I didn't want this, not now, but how could I walk away from the hope it had given me? "We never even had the kid discussion since we'd both thought it was a moot point. We still took precautions, but..." I trailed off, not wanting to continue babbling like the idiot I currently felt like.

"He would have been thrilled," Bucky stated unequivocally and I knew he was right. Steve had father material practically stamped in his stronger than average bones.

"Then he should be here, damn it." I twisted around to look up at them. "Why can't we go back and save him? Can't we save him?" I pleaded, not wanting to contemplate the world spinning on without Steve Rogers on it.

"I could, but the cost would be great," Dr. Strange stated as he returned with a well-timed flourish.

"And? I'll pay it," I told him, willing to give up my life if necessary if it meant Steve survived.

He raised an eyebrow at me as if surprised I meant the words.

"No. Fuck no. You and your need to save him, it'll get you killed one day," Sam groused.

Bucky smirked. "I think that's kinda the point." Sam glared at him.

"Captain Rogers made his sacrifice to save  _all of us_ , the cost to undo that would be commensurate," Strange explained in a completely flat tone of voice, wanting me to understand the seriousness of making such a drastic change.

"Are you saying it could actually be done?" I questioned given how long it had been since he'd... given everything to defeat Thanos.

Strange frowned before answering. "Technically, yes."

"Don't give her false hope," a new voice stated in an admonishing sneer. "The timeline has been altered too much as it stands. Going back at this point..." He shook his head. "I would have hoped you would have learned that the Eye is not a toy by now."

"Myla, I want you to meet Wong, Librarian of the Kamar-Taj."

Wong grunted, clearly not pleased with that description.

"What? You want me to memorize another library? I'm good for more than that." The complaint mostly facetious and to cover the fact I had no idea where this meeting would end up.

Wong cast Strange a sideways glance. "Can she do that?"

Strange shrugged.

"She can," Sam explained. "Could probably dump all the data into a computer thanks to Stark's modified BARF tech. Preserve it for... ever I guess."

Strange got this strange look in his eyes at that suggestion. "That... that might actually work."

I rubbed my forehead. "How about asking if I want to before you start making your plans?" I groused.

"No, not for that, for your memories," Wong explained.

"Well, that would be interesting, but I don't see how it would be useful, they'd still be stuck in my head."

Wong inclined his head to acknowledge my point. "Which is why I am here." He strode forward, grabbed a chair and set in down directly in front of me. Settling into it with care. "Can you tell me where your timeline and the current one diverge?"

"Uh, maybe?" I closed my eyes and picked my way through the two closest versions of my life. Childhood, the same. Teen years with college and such the same, or differences so minor I failed to spot them. But then in spring of 2012 the road split, the two paths still similar, but different enough for me to see the changes. The butterfly effect buried in my life.

I opened my eyes to see all four men hovering over me with matching worried looks. Well, except for Wong who had the same slightly bored look on his face as he'd had when I'd closed my eyes. "What?"

Sam glanced at his watch. "It's been close to an hour, we were getting worried."

"She had two lifetimes to review, did you expect it to be instantaneous?" Wong reminded, causing me to chuckle.

"Did you find the divergence?" Bucky asked, handing me a cup of coffee, which I sipped at, only slightly surprised he'd gotten the cream and sugar just the way I liked it.

"The Incident in New York. I mean it didn't change my personal choices, but how it played out was noticeably different. Please keep in mind I watched it on TV like most of the country, but news reports vary, information released after is different. Most of it seems small but still different."

The men exchanged an enigmatic look.

"I take it that was a key point in the battle with Thanos?"

"You could say that," Bucky muttered running a hand through his long hair.

"Clearly this is the point of divergence for you. Though I still don't fully understand why you remember the various time streams." Strange looked to Wong for guidance.

He shrugged. "Unless this version of her is enhanced in a way her original was not, which there will be no way to discover, she should remember no more than what she lived."

"But can you help her?" Sam asked sounding plaintive.

Wong nodded. "You will still remember all of them, the two most similar ones will probably remain, but we should be able to ease the confusion and disassociation with this reality to a minimal level." He tipped his head and narrowed his eyes while watching me. "A suggestion?"

"Sure, since you're going to help me not feel insane."

He gave me a quick grin, little more than a flash of his teeth and a crinkle of the skin by his eyes. "Use Stark's tech to record your various memories, it might very well prove useful in the future."

"Can I have access to your library?" I countered with, curious beyond measure at the thought of real magic and the books that taught one how to use it.

Wong glanced up at Strange who gave a tiny nod. "That would be acceptable." He reached out and set his hand on one of mine, patting it in an almost perfunctory manner. "I will need to do some research but can meet you here tomorrow to begin our work if you like."

I held in the sigh. "As I have nothing better to do, that's fine."

"Good." Wong got to his feet, then to Strange, "I'll let you know what time I'll arrive, she should be here before then."

"Of course, I'll arrange everything," Strange assured.

Without another word Wong stood and walked from the room. I wanted to ask where he intended to go but decided it wasn't really all that important.

I glanced down at my ensemble. I hadn't exactly planned for an overnight trip when we'd left the Compound. Granted, I could buy whatever I needed with little issue, I just would rather have packed an overnight bag, or even grabbed my go bag than to show up tomorrow in the same clothes I wore now. Okay, maybe in Steve's shirt, but clean underwear would be preferable. "Would it be worth flying back to the Compound?" I asked of Sam.

Strange shook his head. "If I know Wong he'll want you back here bright and early our time. Better to remain nearby even if it is a bit of an inconvenience."

"And I have to get back," Sam told me. "Hill has left me three messages so far."

"Oof. Call her. Tell her you'll be back ASAP. My credit card works perfectly well for both clothes and a hotel room," I assured him. Might as well spoil myself a little before Hill puts me back to work. "I'll be fine."

"You'll stay with me."

I snapped my head about to see Bucky watching me with a no-nonsense set to his jaw. He would not be taking no for an answer.

"Bucky-"

"There's plenty of space and... and I'd appreciate the company."

Strange clapped his hands together. "That's settled then. Shall we exchange numbers so that I can let you know when to arrive?"

I nodded, not thrilled that the decision had been made for me. I gave him my number and he shot me a text so that I had his. Minutes later we stood on the sidewalk outside the manse waiting for a pair of rides. SHIELD for Sam, Lyft for me and Bucky.

"I'll need to pick up some necessities," I told him plucking at the shirt I wore.

He nodded. "I'll need to pick up food if you want something other than take out."

I gave him a grin. "Take out is fine, I haven't had a decent slice in ages." Last time had been when Steve and I had signed the papers on the place I was about to spend the night in for the first time.

Without him.

Suddenly I knew I could not do this.

Bucky must have seen my hesitation. "We'll hit the stores first. See if the driver is willing to hang while we shop."

I nodded, not really absorbing the meaning of his words. I wondered idly if the condo with the view of Central Park was being used right now. "Uh, I can hire a driver for us if need be. My family has a company on retainer."

Sam snorted. "I keep forgetting you have money. Maybe I should hit you up the next time I need new wheels." His request facetious of course.

"And that is probably why she didn't tell anyone," Bucky pointed out and not wrongly.

I hadn't grown up a spoiled brat. I'd worked hard for everything I'd achieved. I simply hadn't worried about my next meal, or replacing worn out shoes or the like. My parents both worked even though they had no need to. Yes, they did the high end set party circuit as a matter of course, as did several of my siblings, but not a single one lived solely by that life.

"I'm aware of that," Sam snarked at Bucky who sighed softly. He leaned over to whisper in my ear. "Lotus. I like the way they move."

I managed a smile that he seemed to accept as being real, yet I remained unsettled, an odd churning in my gut that signaled neither hunger nor the return of the little I had eaten today. Just an uneasiness that made me want to run and hide.

Sam's ride appeared then and he gave me a quick kiss on the cheek before climbing into the car and disappearing down the street.

"Myla, you okay?" Bucky asked me, checking his phone to see how far away our ride was.

I shook my head.

 


	2. Chapter 2

A couple hours later we were dropped off outside the ancient warehouse that had been converted into overpriced oversized studio apartments. The area had resisted being gentrified for an exceedingly long time, which meant that few had chosen to live in the area as of yet, and we'd had our choice of the prime real estate to choose from. We'd taken the top floor; a view of the water out the floor to ceiling windows on one side. The place on the fringes of Brooklyn proper, but close enough to satisfy Steve's need to have a place true to his roots. Would I have preferred the cliffside one that included a private beach? Yes, but my family owned several that I could use at my whim, so I'd been more than willing to let Steve's heart make the final choice.

Arms laden with bags loaded with staples of both personal necessity - toothbrush had been a must - and food we took the freight elevator up to the hallway that separated the two top floor condos. Halfway down the hall, my footsteps began to drag until I stood in the open doorway that Bucky had just bustled through. Frozen in place and unable to move an inch.

It didn't take Bucky long to realize I had not followed him.

"Doll?" he questioned reappearing in the doorway.

Steve had called me that a time or two, I didn't hate it, but preferred his other pet names for me. I got it though, the need to use the familiar for him, for them. Most women in this day and age would take instant offense, but I knew better. Knew he meant nothing by it, especially with the level of concern I could hear in his voice.

I managed to meet his eyes but did nothing more than shake my head.

He huffed out a soft breath and planted himself directly in front of me. "You can do this," he assured me, taking both my hands into his own with a gentleness that still surprised me. I hadn't even realized that I'd let the bags I'd held slip to the floor, spilling their contents in some cases. "You need to do this." He gave me a crooked smile. "It is your place, after all."

"Bucky..."

"Yes?"

"Do you miss him?" Apparently, I needed someone to feel the same misery I did.

"Every day." He took a slow step backward and I resisted the tug at first but permitted my feet to shuffle forward, my eyes locked on his not willing to look about and see that I would so have done what I'd been dreading for most of a month now.

He eventually stopped and released one of my hands to turn about and wave the other towards the amazing view that hadn't changed one whit since I'd last been here. The late afternoon sun cutting through the fluffy white summer clouds to cast both light and shadow upon the water spread out before us. We would have a hell of a view of the sunset in mere hours.

"Hey, what's with the waterfall routine, Doll?"

I hadn't even realized I'd started crying. He produced a handkerchief from somewhere and handed it to me.

"I'm just gonna blame the hormones, okay?"

He nodded. "You good for a minute or two?"

I dabbed at my eyes, the tears coming faster now that I'd become aware of them. "Yeah."

He gave my hand a quick squeeze then released me. A few moments later I heard the door shut and he set the alarm system with a distinctive series of musical beeps. The place had come with the basics that we'd planned to upgrade. If I had moved in today I would bring Ares along.

"Hey, would you like to be connected to my network? Ares is a smartass, but could handle your security here without a problem." I could already hear the computer complaining he was not a butler or a babysitter, but it would allow Bucky to function optimally with FRIDAY back at the Compound. Their introduction had been an interesting one and done with great caution. Ares had been taught to take over other systems, so convincing him to leave FRIDAY to her business and to work with her had been a challenge.

"Ares? You'd do that for me?"

I turned about to see him in the kitchen sorting the bags into my stuff and food stuff. The area just as expansive as I remembered, which Steve had found amusing given how little he cooked. I loved to cook but rarely had time. We had made a point of making dinner together once a month, no ifs, ands, or buts, kind of like a date night that, yes, often ended up with us in bed. A selection of evenings spent together flashed through my mind, some from my reality, some from others, all doing little more than making me even more melancholy.

"Of course I would. None of us expected to be going back to the Compound. I'd hoped they'd come along for the ride with The Expendables, but..." I tried for a casual shrug of my shoulders, my breath hitching in my chest giving the emotions away. "Ares seems far more your style than FRIDAY anyway."

Bucky snorted as he opened the fridge and began putting the perishables away. "You got that right."

I realized I was being a horrible guest even if it was technically my place and forced myself to join him in the kitchen, handing him items to put away and memorizing his sense of organization as I went. I half expected it to be chaotic, but instead had been set up with a sense of perfection that impressed even me. I liked to be neat, but this verged on OCD and I had to wonder if it were leftovers from his youth or his time with Hydra.

As we moved from the fridge to the cabinets the theme continued. Out of sheer curiosity, I opened up various drawers to see even the utensils to be precisely placed. It only took a few seconds to understand why. The placement of the cutlery gave it away. They weren't just knives for slicing vegetables, they were weapons to be used when needed. The entire main area had a particular flow to it that would hamper the movements of those unfamiliar with the layout, but for those that did, for him... He'd be able to move through the space with ease and access any of the dozens of weapons he'd hidden about the apartment.

Nat had taught me to do the same thing, which had annoyed Steve as he'd been certain no one could get to us at the Compound and why bother really when they could just drop a bomb on us from above. Still, it had been a habit instilled in me and that I'd maintained all these years. It was interesting to see someone else with the same sense of self-preservation. "You know, if you're worried about burglars in this neighborhood I'm sure I can find you space at the Compound."

He went dead still for a long moment, his eyes following where mine marked every place I felt certain he'd hidden a weapon. "Nah. It's habit mostly. Besides if they need my flat-screen that badly they can have it. They're not that difficult to replace these days."

I snorted. "Why don't you seem surprised that I spotted your stashed weapons."

"Aside from the fact that I know who trained you? Steve told me you missed nothing." The corners of his lips twitched upwards, not quite a smile, but definite amusement.

"Jeez, did he spend all his time talking about me? Maybe he should have been focused on fighting a bit more and he'd still be alive." I sucked in a surprised breath at my own words. "Oh fuck," I muttered spinning about and planting both palms on the concrete countertop. The place had a lot of concrete, the industrial style popular right now and I hadn't hated it.

"Steve thought the concrete and steel would be harder to damage if he forgot."

"Were all the places you looked at like this one?"

I sniffed, wiping away the tears as I turned to look at him. "No. I picked a place on the beach. Down near Hilton's Head."

"A beach house?" He tipped his head, watching me with care. "Not quite what I pictured for you."

I shrugged. "We vacationed to the beach a lot when I was a kid. I love the sound of the waves, I always sleep better there."

"And where else?"

I didn't question how he knew there'd been multiple options on the table. "A retrofitted farmhouse not all that far from the Compound. We both liked it, but it was definitely not our first choice."

"And you let him choose this one."

I hung my head down, staring at the dark gray surface between my hands. "He missed home. And he wanted to share it with me. How could I tell him no if it made him happy?"

"You made him happy." And there he was at my side, a bottle of water and a box of tissues in his hands. "He wanted to come back to you, but-"

"Then he should have," I interrupted voice soft and full of hurt.

"- but, he made the only choice possible. If he had lived, so much else would have been lost, including you."

"But he'd still be alive," I pointed out tears rolling off my cheeks to hit the counter. "How can he save us the next time if he's not here?"

Bucky was there by my side then, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body - what was it with super-soldiers and their furnace-like temperature anyway - but he took care not to touch me this time. "We will. All of us left. We'll take up the duties he left behind."

"Yay, more martyrs to the cause," I sniped. "Idiots."

He pushed the tissue box closer. "Yep. every single one of us. You included."

I pulled out a tissue, crumpling it in my grip. "Nope. I'm the fool in all this."

Bucky snorted, making it clear to me he'd heard about that nickname of mine at some point in his recent adventures with Steve. "He would hate to see you so upset."

I choked on a laugh. "He'd be embarrassed by me wasting so much time grieving for him." The truth. He would have hated me being so emotional so many weeks later, but I didn't know how to move on, especially when I knew he could have come back. Could have made a different choice with a potentially vastly different outcome. Could have fucking lived.

"If you need to get away for awhile I'll cover for you. I know of this great hut in Wakanda. Helped me get my head straight."

I turned to look at him, my mouth wanting to drop open in surprise. "You'd do that for me?"

"Of course. For both of you." His eyes drifting down in a pointed manner.

"If you can't have Steve, his kid is the next best thing, huh?" Outrage drove the tears away, but also made me lightheaded, which I didn't enjoy. The room getting fuzzy about the edges and knees more than a touch wobbly.

"What is it with you and fainting?" Bucky asked as he grasped my arm to keep me upright.

I tried to shrug him off, but he ignored it. "I'm fine," I argued. "Just need some food and maybe a nap."

He made certain I intended to stay upright and then raided the fridge. Within minutes I had a plate of fruit and cheese in front of me. "Eat. I'll get the room ready."

He headed towards the master bedroom. "I can stay in the guest room," I told him around a bite of sharp cheddar, suddenly ravenous.

"Uh, I turned that into my workout room." He ducked his head a momentary look of guilt crossing his features. "You can have my... the bed."

I stiffened realizing he meant the bed had been here when he moved in. Meaning Steve had purchased it for  _us_. "I won't kick you out of your bed."

He lifted his head a tiny grin on his lips. "Doll, I don't sleep all that much. You won't be putting me out. And, besides, it's a really nice bed."

I didn't even get the chance to argue, he simply turned on his heel and disappeared into the bedroom.

I didn't follow. Instead, I focused on the grumbling of my stomach and the lack of noise in my mind. Whatever Strange had done still held, putting those other lives under my control for the time being. I could feel it fraying at the edges, scenes of another life where Steve and I lived in this exact place for months before everything had gone to hell. This time, however, when I pushed, it away it went. Back into its corner.

I ate a couple of grapes then opened the bottle of water, drinking half the contents in a short span of time. I needed to make a decision. A tough one. Wallow in my misery and lose not only Steve but myself or find the strength to move forward. And since it was more than just my life that would be forfeit...

So I ate the damn food, drank the damn water, and determined that I would do the right thing and keep fighting.

 

~^~

 

Bucky did his best to keep me calm and amused for the rest of the day. He had that pizza delivered and we watched movies on Netflix. Many of which he had never seen. It came with a sense of normalcy I hadn't experienced in a long time. Not since Steve and I had been forced to go our separate ways.

And I hated myself for it.

The end credits had rolled, the prompt to choose another movie on the screen, I glanced at the clock to discover it to be nearly two in the morning. I yawned hugely, needing to sleep but afraid to. Though. maybe, thanks to Strange's magic, it would be better, less chaotic in my sleeping mind.

Still, I could honestly say I didn't really want to find out. So, I picked up the remote, intending to find our next two-hour distraction, although a series to binge-watch might do as well. Especially one of the more addicting ones. The amusement I gained watching Bucky's reactions almost more fun than the movies themselves. I scrolled through till I found season one of Stranger Things and was about to hit play when Bucky set his hand over mine.

"No."

I blinked drowsily at him. The world bordering on blurry due to being awake far too many hours for my mere mortal and living for two body. "You'll like it," I told him.

"Yes, I probably will, but another day."

"Why?"

"Why?" he choked. "You've been awake at least twenty hours. Last I checked you actually need sleep on a regular basis."

I rubbed my hand along the scar above my right ear. The nerves setting off fireworks behind my eyes. The docs didn't know if the sensitivity would ever lessen. I suspected the rubbing of it would become a tell if I didn't take care to prevent it. Perhaps I should let the hair grow out. Hide the evidence of my failure from the world. I could see by the set of his jaw he would not let me argue my way out of it so I said around another massive yawn, "Okay."

One eyebrow went up on his forehead as I shoved myself upright with a grunt. I swayed but didn't stumble at all on the way to the master bedroom. He'd put all the bags on the bed. The bed Steve had purchased for the two of us. He might have gotten the place he wanted, but he'd bought the bed I'd imagined for us. One that hadn't existed, which meant not only had he had it commissioned but had done so before we'd signed on the dotted line for here.

I sucked in a deep breath and blew it out slowly determined to not cry again today.

I forced myself forward and went through the bags, separating out what I'd need for now and took them into the massive attached bathroom. Remembering the time I decided to shower in the morning. I changed, freshened up and brushed my teeth.

I piled everything on the settee under the windows and then just stood there staring at the bed my body shaking with exhaustion at this point.

"Doll? You okay?"

I twitched and turned to see Bucky standing in the doorway. "Yeah."

"I just need to grab some stuff and you can crash."

I nodded and went back to staring morosely at the bed. He grabbed some clothes out of the bureau - one that did not match the bed so he'd probably bought it on his own - then shut himself in the bathroom for a few minutes before reappearing in gym shorts and a tank top, clearly intending to spend the night punching his way through the hours.

"I'm going for a run, will you be all right alone?"

I gave him a look that plainly screamed, 'come closer so I can hit you for your blatant stupidity.'

He put up his hands in surrender. "Sorry, forgot you weren't the damsel in distress for a second there."

I managed a snicker. "Go. I'll attempt to sleep."

He gave me a companionable pat on the shoulder as he moved past me. Moments later I heard the front door open and click shut. That left me alone with the bed and an ongoing reluctance to be anywhere near it. And yet... we'd talked about this bed with posts at each corner, the frame joining them in an oversized square intended for curtains that we'd be able to close and shut out the rest of reality. Yes even in our own home. We'd designed the headboard together. Built-in computer with projector, plus places for all of our electronics, lights, music, the works. We could even watch movies either on the far wall or the curtains once closed. I'd designed all of that, intending to install Ares once we'd settled in.

Only that never happened.

He'd cared enough to purchase it without me knowing, probably intending to surprise me with it when we officially moved in. Tears welled in my eyes for what felt like the thousandth time that day. I had grown tired of being that proverbial damsel in distress.

I flipped off the main light and made my way over to the bed, crawling across it from the foot upwards. Dim light filtered in through the curtains over the massive floor to ceiling windows. I suspected Bucky had changed the sheets and comforter, the scent of laundry detergent upon them. I sank into the mattress, which surprised me. Steve hated pillow tops, hated feeling like he was sinking into the ground, though I suspected it had more to do with his experience in the Valkyrie than sleeping rough during the war. I felt around until finding one of the light switches. Bucky hadn't activated the computer system and I didn't either, this was his now, he'd decide whether or not he wanted to read email in bed.

Looking through the various units I discovered the controls for the mattress itself, ones that would permit Steve to make it hard enough for him to actually sleep, modifying half the bed at a time. I played with the adjustments for a few minutes, my breathing heavy and full of sniffles. In the end, I made both halves soft as fuck and wriggled under the sheets, curling up on my left side, a pillow hugged tight to my chest. I flipped off the light, staring off into the darkness for long minutes before my eyes finally slipped shut.

I dreamed.

Of Steve. Of Me. Of us. Together in this place, in this bed.

Then on a battlefield. Fighting side by side. Monsters coming at us from all sides. We fought back to back out of ammo, but with weapons, we'd acquired. Me with my sword, him with a staff he'd picked up from... from someone who had no longer needed it.

They came at us. Wave after wave after wave. We were outnumbered and outgunned and we knew it was a distraction, but we needed to break free in order to get to Wanda and Vision. If Thanos got the Mind Stone...

"You have to go," I shouted to him. Then over comms, "Chariot, time to make the Emperor fly."

Sam appeared moments later dodging energy blasts and shooting a wide swath of the monsters that surrounded us.

And then the world exploded in a flash of blue light.

I grunted, legs kicking at the covers even as my subconscious dragged me back down.

Steve pressed his forehead against mine, hands settling on my hips as we swayed to the music. I'd been working on dinner, music on as background noise, when he walked in still in his tac gear, dirt-smudged and torn, which took effort given the modified kevlar. The jacket open to reveal the skin tight shirt beneath, the weapons he left by the door with the simple expedient of unbuckling them and letting them fall where gravity willed. He had then stalked towards me and pulled me into his arms.

We didn't dance because he didn't. Never had. Never would. I didn't care about that, but I had to admit I looked forward to moments like these, but I would never force them upon him. So when he pulled me close and moved us to the music it always made me love him a just little bit more. I knew why he didn't dance, so those rare occasions when he tried I endeavored to treasure the moment, hoarding it for those rainy days when we were apart.

Today we were together and he wanted something he could not yet articulate. So I let him lead. Let him strip my clothes off slowly, still following the beat of the music. His clothes stayed on, only moving what was necessary before taking me there on the counter.

The first one only seemed to fuel his need.

Three times before he even removed the uniform. Another in the shower and then finally in bed.

He barely spoke the entire time and I didn't ask. Didn't try to find out what had brought this on, just thanked whatever gods might be listening for bringing him home to me.

We lay there tangled together, his one arm underneath me, his other hand twined with my own, his head resting on my chest, my fingers slowly carding through his damp hair. He held on as if afraid I would disappear on him. So I held him, made certain he could feel my presence in his soul. Lying there the heat of his body baking into my skin we fell asleep.

I could feel the tears trailing across my face as I swam back into awareness, the lights of the city filtering in through the curtains. In the early hours of the morning in the bed meant to be ours, I gave in and wailed my desperate grief to the unforgiving world.

I voiced the anger and frustration and utter loathing for the path our lives had ended up on. I don't know how long I lay there, vomiting up the emotions I'd kept tightly locked inside for weeks, loneliness and abandonment crashing down upon my soul with a violence that caused just this side of physical pain. The ache deeper than my heart. Carved into my very being, my soul with no hope of ever extricating it.

Suddenly there were arms about me, warmth and strength enfolding me and, for an instant, the tiniest fraction of a moment, I thought it was him, That a fucking miracle had occurred and Steve had come back to me. But the smell was different and the shape of the body was wrong and the sound of the motors in the one arm told me exactly who had come to my rescue.

The one person who missed Steve Rogers as much as I did. So instead of finding that inner strength and locking the emotions away as I had been doing for long weeks, I gave them free reign.

He held onto me through all of it, doing no more than whispering soothing words, some sounding choked as if he also had given in and permitted his emotions a physical escape.

Dawn eventually showed itself in the sky.

 


	3. Chapter 3

"If you break them all here they'll be useless in the field."

I damn near twitched out of my skin at the voice next to me. The rush of adrenaline causing my heart rate to spike and the baby to kick me solidly. I shot a glare in his direction. "Tony, you really need to stop jump scaring people. It pisses them off."

He snorted in amusement.

I rubbed at the spot the baby kept kicking in hopes of calming her. Or him. I'd decided I didn't want to know at this point, though I was pretty certain the docs did. Tony leaned against the rail, the deep shadows we stood in permitting the hologram to work out here. Tony, the real live boy version, still lay in a coma, his mind not recovering nearly as fast as his body from the injuries he'd sustained fighting Thanos.

But we'd needed him.

So during one of the sessions where I downloaded my memories of the other timelines into the database that we'd set up, I had an epiphany of sorts. Tony had spent a lot of time using his BARF, which meant we had quite a few of his memories stored away and with the right modifications we could access more. We couldn't wake him up, not yet, but with a little creativity, I could bring him back sort of. We hooked the modified BARF to the sleeping Tony and I downloaded the memories we could access into a matrix similar to the one I'd created for Ares and, with some tweaking, Tony Mark II was born. He'd hated talking through the computers and tablets like FRIDAY so we modified the hologram system so that he could appear pretty much anywhere he wanted on the Compound, but not on the quinjets. Oh no, there he was stuck being a voice from the speakers for the exact reason I currently admonished him.

The image changed, dropping about thirty years in age as he cocked his head and smiled. "Aw, c'mon, you know you like it."

I huffed out a breath. "I drop this baby early and they might just turn you off."

He set a hand on his chest looking appropriately shocked. "They wouldn't know how."

I cocked a single eyebrow. "But I would."

"Uh, good point," he muttered then shifted over to lay a virtual hand upon my belly. I could feel a slight tingle of electricity where he came in contact with me, even through the lightweight body armor I wore. The projection not solid, but the energy enough for those even the tiniest bit sensitive to feel, like static buildup in the air. He hadn't managed to actually shock anyone yet, but he'd begun sneaking up on people and tickling the backs of their necks, causing the hair to stand up and the person to flinch away. "How is the wee bairn anyway?"

"Healthy as a very large horse," I told him. We'd locked him out of the medical files, not wanting his virtual self to get caught up in the health of his living self. Plus he could also be a snoopy little shit and I didn't want him spoiling me on the sex of the baby.

"Still hungry all the time?"

"That is an understatement." I had to eat almost constantly to keep up with the metabolism of the baby. Yet more proof of the father. I had been known to lose several pounds over the course of a day if I didn't input what most would consider an excessive amount of calories.

"Baby is healthy though?"

I nodded. "Yes, why?"

"Because you don't look seven months along."

I sighed. "The baby is well within the norms for size at this stage. I'm at the extreme low end for weight gain, but that's mostly because this one," I patted my barely bulging abdomen, "runs on premium and I can only manage to eat regular." I looked him in the eye. "Docs say everything is fine considering."

"Considering?" He stood up straight, aging to the man I had known in milliseconds. I'd gotten used to it, though others found it disconcerting to watch the VR-Tony suddenly change appearance as he spoke. "Considering what? What's wrong?"

I chuckled at the worry in his voice. For a man that to all appearances hated me when alive, he'd certainly turned into the doting aunt since waking up. "Considering there's never been a serum enhanced baby before."

"Oh. Yeah, I guess this would be new territory."

I turned my gaze back to the trainees paired off on the field below. There still remained the chance of miscarriage or, within a few more weeks, premature birth as the strain on my body grew. I had been deemed healthy, but the demands would be increasing, possibly exponentially, during the last trimester. The docs weren't overly worried but had made certain to apprise me of the potential dangers coming in the weeks ahead.

"You've got nothing to worry about. Soon enough this one'll be running around and being spoiled by his Uncle Tony."

"You will never be Uncle Tony," I informed him tartly and then had to hold back a laugh when he pouted.

"But he knew my dad. They were friends during the war and all."

"And you hated that your dad talked about him all the time," I reminded, still holding back the laughter, though it was getting to be more challenging to keep a straight face.

"Well, yeah, a'course I did. I knew I could never live up to the perfection that was Steve Rogers." He frowned, actually seeming to be upset. "Doesn't mean I don't miss him. Don't you miss him?"

"Every day." I gave him a shrug of my shoulders. "And will for all those I have left."

"Wow. You went for full depressing there didn't you?"

I snorted. "Well, you're essentially immortal now, how are you gonna feel about him in a century?"

His hand went to his heart. "Kill shot. You are an evil person you know that?"

"You seemed to think so when alive, don't know why that should change now."

"Wait? You think I didn't like you?"

"Reasonably certain of it. Yoko Ono, remember?" I certainly did, but I had never really held it against him. I'd been the outsider to the group and though the others had accepted me without reservation, for the most part, Tony hadn't.

"You have got to learn to forget things now and then," he complained. "You turned out to be worth the trouble. Unlike the real Yoko.

I gave him a sideways glance.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know you can't... Huh, wonder than means for the superhero kid to be?"

"Jeez, don't you start too." The docs were already plotting what they'd be testing for. "Besides my talent isn't inheritable, thank god. Steve's memory was more than good enough."

"The potential for it, however, is. It might have been an accident that triggered it, but..." His finger tapped me in the middle of my forehead causing the nearby hairs to stand up due to the not quite static charge.

I sighed. I had the same thought cross my mind on more than one occasion, but I'd buried it as an unneeded worry. It'd be years before we had any clue how the serum affected a growing child. "So. since we're venturing into uncharted waters here I was thinking you might like to be the godfather."

The hologram froze and appeared to glitch, several different versions of Tony trying to project at the same time, but settled for the one who had met Steve in New York the better part of a decade ago. "But aren't they supposed to be spiritual advisors?"

I shrugged. "It a new age, Tony, seems to call for a new kind of village to raise this particular child."

His finger tapped his cheek, as if thinking hard about my offer then he nodded. "I'd be honored. But... Uncle?"

I choked on the laugh and forced a scowl on my face. "No."

"Fine." Then in his best Marlon Brando, which wasn't half bad admittedly, he said, "I'll accept the title of godfather and make certain he earns his place in this world."

"Go away," I told him trying to keep my voice serious and stern and failing miserably. "I have work to do."

He grinned. "Yeah, based on that fail I'd say you do." He pointed at the trainees below then faded from sight.

This group a mix culled from everywhere on the planet and combined they probably spoke a dozen languages easily and, much to my appreciation and honor included three of T'Challa's War Dogs. We'd been doing cross training of styles for a couple weeks now and I'd been having a grand time. My pregnancy not really interfering with the sparring. My partner always took care to pull hits, especially those aimed at my abdomen, the OB they'd brought in had given up convincing me to take it easy and not participate as I would just do it anyway. She simply monitored our health and admonished me when I came in covered in bruises and welts.

The move they'd been trying one of Steve's and while appearing simple on the surface took actual skill for a non-enhanced to master. I and several of my now Expendables had and we'd been attempting to teach it to this group with fair to middling success.

"Hold," I barked then trotted down the steps to join them. "That move was not part of today's sparring session."

A couple of them looked guilty, making it clear someone had laid down a challenge while I'd been distracted by Tony. The youngest of the War Dogs stepped up, she had the darkest skin and the palest green eyes I had ever seen. She'd been on track to become a member of the Dora Milaje when she'd volunteered to come here. All three of them had volunteered, their King, T'Challa wanting to make his presence felt among the Avengers.

I wasn't about to complain. They'd been more than willing to share their skills with us even as we did the same for them.

"Ma'am, would you show us how to perform that move correctly?"

They all looked so fucking earnest that I simply couldn't refuse. But I needed someone's head to kick who could take the hit. This particular move could not be easily pulled and if done correctly would put whoever I beat up into the infirmary. The only real way to pull this kick was to miss by the slimmest of margins.

I looked over the group of trainees, their skills filtering through my mind as I debated which one would be the least likely to get seriously injured should we both misjudge and I actually landed the hit.

Movement in the distance revealed an acceptable target as I saw Sam and Bucky heading for the main building. "Barnes," I shouted, "you got a minute?"

He said something to Sam then trotted over to us. "Whatcha need, Doll?"

"To kick you in the head a few times."

He blinked a couple times then laughed, shaking his head. "Sure, why not?" He wore lightweight body armor similar to mine, that now had accents of red, white and blue here and there on it, most predominantly on the shoulders. He'd cut his hair, the extra long locks he'd had after leaving Wakanda now just brushing his shoulders. He'd been debating cutting it all off, but with us heading into winter had decided to defer a decision until the warmer weather had returned several months from now. New York got bloody cold and I occasionally envied the guys being able to grow hair on their face to assist in the whole keeping warm thing.

He caught me looking and gave me a smirk. "Thought you were gonna kick me?"

I nodded to the trainees who backed away forming a loose circle about us. "This move is extremely effective when done properly."

"And when done improperly?" That from a young man with a decidedly Slavic accent.

"Aside from it hurting like a son of a bitch it can leave you vulnerable to attack." I faced Bucky going into a basic defensive stance. "You up on the sparring routines?" I asked since this move could be more easily done when built up to it.

He nodded. "Uh, fifth level c I think."

No, he  _knew_ , and without me telling him exactly which move I planned on abusing him with. He had never been one to show off in front of the trainees even when he was the one doing the training. I didn't bother confirming just threw the first punch in the standard routine. All the moves deliberate and precise. He used the proper counters to every move done at full speed but at about half strength. He gave me a quick nod as we approached the move in question permitting me to actually land in. I did the forward flip with an odd little twist that struck him solidly on the side of his head and shoulder knocking him back and to the ground with an audible, "Oof," and solid thud to the turf.

I stuck the landing, going instantly back into a defensive posture. An ord would have stayed down, Bucky easily flipped himself back up to standing, ready to go again.

The trainees about us clapped.

Bucky quirked an eyebrow, gave me a half bow then said, "Again."

So we went through it again, him taking the hit a second and then a third time before the young woman who had asked for my demonstration stepped up wanting to take her turn.

Bucky laughed softly and let her have a go at him. She performed the move well, but he didn't stand still and take the hit. No, this time he shifted catching her leg as it came at him and twisting, putting her on the ground with him still standing, his foot now in the center of her back.

She tapped out quickly, eyes wide as she got to her feet, but the thin line of her lips told me she was already working on how to counter that particular move. When she looked to go for it again I intervened. "You will learn that move as well, once you reach the proper training level. That said, if I catch you actually attempting this move without proper supervision you will be reproved and I seriously doubt a single one of you wishes to restart training from the beginning. I fully expect you to be patient and not damage each other. Understood?"

I got nods from all of them. Even the Wakandan's, though they exchanged a look that suggested they'd be taking all due care to not get caught. Skill-wise they were far more advanced that many of the others in their group, but the deal had been they would follow the training protocols. Still, it would behoove me to work with them unofficially to keep them from chafing at the restraints and getting themselves into trouble.

"Demonstration over. Back to work. You've got another thirty, then tac integration classes if I recall correctly."

They grumbled but paired off and got back to the routine. Yeah, it could get mind-numbingly boring at times but the point was to make these moves instinctive, so they would simply react in a situation, which could, in the end, save their lives.

I glanced at Buck who shrugged and joined in with me as his partner. It seemed to ease the boredom of the Wakandan's to see their White Wolf doing the same moves as themselves. We didn't really need to hold back either, though neither of us hit full strength for obvious reasons. Didn't mean I couldn't crack him a good one now and then.

See, an odd side-effect of having a serum enhanced baby was that, to a degree, we shared the same system and that meant, for now anyway, I'd been enhanced. The docs suspected the effect would fade after the baby had been born but for the time being, I quite literally had to remember to not break items when I picked them up. I spent a week shattering drinkware and cracking tablets before they'd figured out what the hell had been going on.

I took care when sparring with the regular trainees because, although my control had improved, I could still seriously injure or even kill them without meaning to.

Bucky watched me with a hooded gaze as we went through the entire routine, finishing up as the rest of the group did. I gave the panting twenty-somethings the once over and dismissed them. They would have plenty of time to clean up and hydrate before heading to their next class.

My stomach growled, reminding me that inputting massive amounts of fuel had become a necessity, which Bucky heard.

"C'mon, Doll, let's get you and the little one something to eat."

We walked side by side towards the cafeteria. "Thanks for the assist. Doesn't look good when I break the newbies."

He snorted. "Are you busy later?"

I shrugged. "Just the usual reports and such. why?"

"I need to talk to you about some stuff, but have more meetings this afternoon that I can't bail on. I was thinking around eight if that works for you."

"Sure. Stop by my place whenever. I'm done at six because the docs seem to think I'll break if I play after dark."

He chuckled. "You're fine. They're just clueless. You still coming down next week?"

"Yep. My bi-monthly trek to Kamar-Taj. I'll be there Tuesday, barring magical incidents they don't want me to see." Wong had been as good as his word and once I'd been deemed mentally stable again had begun reading and recording the extensive library the Kamar-Taj had been protecting for centuries. He and Strange had also begun actively teaching me since they'd figured out right quick that learning was pretty much doing for me when on a lark I tried a shield spell I'd read and pulled it off with ease the first try. The two men had exchanged a look that had screamed 'oh shit' while I went with a quote from Legally Blonde in response. "What? Like it's hard?"

Strange had snorted, while Wong returned to his usual stoic glower. Yes, the man had resting glower face, but I didn't hold it against him. He was one hell of a teacher.

"Crash at your place the day before and after... unless you have plans."

He shook his head. "No, no plans. And it's your place, remember?"

In name only as far as I was concerned. I owned the place, but he paid the bills and lived there. This had become an ongoing argument that I would one day win when I signed the apartment over to him. Not that he knew about those plans since he'd fight tooth and nail to stop me. I just  _couldn't_  live there. Visit, spend the night when in New York, sure, but live? No.

A chime went off and Bucky looked down at his wrist. "Shit. I'm late for a meeting."

I waved him off. "Go. I can feed myself."

He gave me an odd look I could not interpret the meaning of, gave my barely there belly and the child within a pat then trotted off heading for the door he and Sam had been heading to earlier.

I rubbed the spot he'd touched, him one of the few people I permitted to do so without direct permission. Clint the other one. Both men somehow managing to play the part of the perfect partner even though both were no more than friends.

The baby rolled causing me to grunt in response to the weird sensation it caused. "Yes, okay, I'll feed you. Jeez, demanding much?"

With a soft sigh, I trotted the rest of the distance to the cafeteria.

~^~

He arrived just after eight thirty. I waved him in and shoved a plate of food in front of him much to his amusement. Just some blueberry muffins I'd heated up and slathered with butter.

"I ate dinner," he informed me.

"Are you sure?" I gave him the once-over. He'd lost a noticeable amount of weight since his days on the run. Still fit, of course, but built more like his Winter Soldier days in DC. I'd seen all the video I could get my hands on when assisting Steve's search for his friend. Cryo, living in Wakanda, and a universe and time-spanning war had taken its toll. Yeah, he'd had time to bulk up again, but had clearly chosen not to. He looked good other than the worry lines between his brows.

"Quite sure," he grumbled with a frown before taking a deliberate bite of the muffin.

"I feel like a bloody hobbit." I used a fork to dig into mine, in order to force myself to go slow, else I would inhale the damn thing in just a few bites.

Bucky snorted. "Like from the movie? Short guys with big hairy feet?"

I nodded. "And always eating. Breakfast, second breakfast, elevenses, lunch, etcetera, etcetera." And it would only get worse as the baby continued to grow.

He leaned forward to look over the counter at me. I wore a tee and yoga pants that did not require excessive loosening to accommodate my ever increasing belly. I didn't try to hide the baby bump these days, but I also refused to shop for maternity clothes which meant a month from now I'd be wearing anything with a drawstring when off duty. "You look amazing. The Kardashians would kill for your secret of staying so thin in your third trimester."

I huffed out a breath in irritation. "Still second, thank you very much. Jeez, why does everyone want this kid born now?"

He chuckled. "And you don't?"

"Oh hell no. I have no clue how to be a mom." I'd done my best to not think that far ahead, though it would probably behoove me to do so in the near future as I hadn't even set up a crib for the child to be yet. I hadn't been able to clear out the spare bedroom mostly due to the fact it still had Steve's art supplies, including a half-finished painting that I could not look at yet. "I am so not ready for this."

"You'll do fine," he assured me, reaching out to give my free hand a squeeze.

"How to do you figure that?"

"I've seen you with the trainees. Besides, you did just fine with Steve. He was barely an adult."

I snickered. "Okay, you may have a point."

"Then what's the problem?"

I waved at the suite that had pretty much remained unchanged since the day I had moved back in. "Well, at some point I should probably acquire stuff for the baby."

His face went oddly blank.

"Bucky?"

"Uh, all I can say is it's covered. Nat'll kill me if I spill the beans."

Oh.  _Oh_. "Understood. I'll play the part of utterly surprised since I will be." I picked up the last few crumbs and ate them then grabbed both plates and put them in the sink. "You wanted to talk to me about something?"

"Yeah. That. Umm, can we talk about the Wakandan's first?"

I quirked an eyebrow. "Sure. They come to you and complain?"

He sighed. "Yes. But not about you specifically."

"They're bored."

He nodded. "They understand why it's being done this way, but..."

I shook my head. "If there's a but then they  _don't_  understand." His eyebrows bounced upwards this time. "But they do have a point. I was thinking I switch up the training with them."

He released the breath he'd been holding. "Glad to hear it. I'll arrange for separate classes for them. In addition to the required ones of course, though given I'm gone a lot of the time I'm not certain who will teach them."

"Stop." He did so instantly. "I am in charge of their training per the agreement with T'Challa. Or are you overriding his orders, White Wolf."

"Uh, no? There's just no one else readily available to handle their training."

I gave him a wan smile. "I have no intention of training them separate from the rest of their class. They need to learn how we train, how we merge the various styles and skills to form a cohesive whole. The Expendables didn't become what they are by accident in case you have forgotten."

He narrowed his eyes at my backhanded admonishment, but I could see the cogs and wheels spinning behind those eyes. "Christ, you're dangerous. They'll walk out of here being able to counter pretty much any fighting style on the planet."

"Among other skills. When I said I wanted to give them their own training, I meant them training us. There's a lot to be learned from them."

The stunned look on his face pretty left me feeling more than satisfied. "I can't approve that, only T'Challa-" He must have caught something on my face though I did my best to give nothing away. "You've already contacted him."

I smiled. "Yes. Gave his preliminary approval. Just need to work up a class plan, which he suggested I discuss with you. Said you'd know what would be safe to cross-train with us colonizers."

He ran a hand through his hair, clearly thinking. "Yeah, we can work on that next week if you like." Looking as if he'd been backed into a corner he slid off the stool. "Feel up to a walk, Doll?"

"Sure? Lemme just grab shoes and a sweater." I trotted off to my room, stuffed my stocking covered feet into my boots, without bothering to lace them, grabbed a zip-up hoodie of Steve's and pulled it on. It was way too big for me, but I didn't care. I could still smell him when I wore it. I had yet to remove his clothes. Both the closet and bureau still filled with discarded pieces of his life that I clung to when the memories were no longer enough to remind me he had existed and been a huge part of my reality.

Thinking about him still hurt, an ache so beyond bone-deep that nothing could ever hope to fill in the neverending void left behind. I kept going but hadn't yet moved on.

I doubted I ever will.

The baby kicked, reminding me of the here and now and I stepped back out to see Bucky waiting next to the door for me. He gave me the once-over, his eyes turning oddly sad when he saw the hoodie. He opened the door playing the gentleman card for all it was worth. We crossed the grassy expanse between buildings heading for the hangar simply to have a target to aim for. The night air cool enough that our breath fogged on every exhale, but not so cold that either of us felt the need of a real coat. One of those advantages to being enhanced, even if only marginally.

"What's up?"

"You saw the new uniform?"

"Yeah. I liked the accent colors."

He rubbed the back of his neck and refused to meet my eyes. "Well, it's 'cause it comes with a job offer of sorts."

I waited patiently for him to get to the punchline. I had gotten used to holding my tongue with Steve. He'd always had trouble putting his thoughts into words, Bucky not so much so I knew this was of great importance to him.

"They want me to be Captain America. Well, me and Sam actually." He ducked his head and met my eyes through his long lashes. "They seem to think that the country... the world needs the Captain back to help with the rebuilding. Like a title as opposed to a specific person." He stuffed his hands into his pockets, shoulders hunched as if feeling guilty of something horrible.

"Just tell me you said yes. I'd be embarrassed as hell if you didn't since I'm the one who threw your name into the hat."

His head snapped up. "You... you suggested that I become... Captain America?"

I reached out to rest my hand against his cheek. "Yes. You've earned it. More you deserve it." I shrugged. "Plus who else is better to live up to those ideals Steve had."

"You," he blurted out.

I patted him on the shoulder. "I am otherwise occupied for the next several years," I reminded directing his attention to the belly that he had in no way forgotten about."It's why they're grooming me to replace Hill."

He twitched. "You know about that?"

"Of course I know about that. Not much gets by me."

"So you're okay with us replacing Steve?"

I gave him a wistful smile. "You aren't. It's more of a succession. He would have retired one day no chance someone wouldn't have used the name to keep patriotism alive. Hell, they did for years after he went into the ice. We'll just have new faces to go with the title."

"You aren't afraid all he did will be forgotten?"

I laughed, though the bitterness could be heard buried within. "He saved the fucking universe. I dare anyone to forget that."

His hand came out of his pocket quicker than a thought to wrap about one of mine, the metal warm against my air cooled skin. "We'll make certain of it. You can write a book or something."

Oddly enough I'd been thinking about doing that exact thing. I had no clue if I'd have any skill at writing, but it cost me nothing but time and some effort to find out. "I'll take it under advisement. Is that all you were worried about? Being Captain America?"

"Didn't want you getting upset. I should've known you already knew about it." He didn't release my hand instead draping his arm over my shoulder and strolling off towards the trees. A few others were out and about, the Compound ran twenty-four/seven so at least a quarter of the staff was awake even in the overnight hours. A few die-hard joggers could be seen on the trail that edged the woods. I still ran a couple times a week to find my zen. Usually, with one of the trainees trailing a few yards behind just in case I decided to go into labor or tripped and stubbed my toe. You'd think this was some virgin birth or something.

"What else? I know you, Barnes, you've been acting weird all day so out with it."

He huffed out a breath creating an impressive cloud around us. He stopped, shifting to stand in front of me. I stuffed my hands into the pockets of the hoodie and watched as his right fumbled with something in the front pocket of his jeans. He pulled out a ring that glinted in the distant lights in a suspiciously expensive manner.

When he started to go down on one knee I smacked him on the shoulder. "Barnes, what the fuck are you doing?"

He froze, his words coming out as a near growl. "The right thing." He held out the ring to me, the karats I could estimate excessive, to say the least.

"What the hell?" I asked, wondering just what the fuck had gotten into his head. "Did I kick you in the skull too hard earlier?"

"What? No. I promised Steve I'd take care of you. Both of you. This is the right way to do that."

"In 1940 maybe, it's 2018 in case you haven't seen a calendar recently."

He scowled. "I know the date. The baby deserves a name."

My back stiffened instantly. "The baby will have a name," I informed him, anger bleeding into the words as I resisted the need to kick him in the head a lot harder than I'd done during our sparring session earlier today.

"Whose?"

I'd made this decision not all that long ago. "On paper Rogers, in public mine."

He crumpled a little at that, wiggling the ring back and forth between his fingers. "Oh. Yeah, I guess that'll work too."

"Bucky, even if you weren't doing this out of some archaic obligation to Steve I would still say no."

"Why?"

I ticked the big reasons off on my fingers. "You're immortal and I'm not. I won't force you to be tied down to someone when you might find love elsewhere. You don't love me. Least not that way."

"You and your logic. We care about each other enough to make it work."

"Maybe. Maybe not. I certainly won't subject you to my womanly pining for my dead... lover any more than I already do." I plucked the ring from his hold, placing it in the palm of his hand, folding his fingers over it. "I'm still in love with Steve and not ready to move on. Even if I were willing to do this for the sake of propriety I'd still say no. It wouldn't be fair to you."

"Fair enough." He tucked the ring back into his pocket with a soft sigh. "If Steve had asked you?"

Urf. "In my current condition? I probably would have let him talk me into it, but otherwise no."

"So it's not just me, it's all immortals."

"Correct. I won't marry Thor or Brunnhilde either for the record."

He snorted, the smile half-hearted at best. "You pick names yet?"

I nodded. "Sarah Amelia for her."

"Steve's mom and yours, I'm guessing."

"Yes. For a boy... I'm not sure yet. Maybe Steve Jr, but I'm not sure I want to pigeonhole the kid from birth."

"What do you mean?"

I rubbed at my scar in frustration. I hadn't really talked about this to anyone and wasn't sure I should with Bucky since I half expected him to agree with  _them_  and not me. "I mean they're already planning out a training schedule for this one," I rubbed my belly, making the pockets I'd stuffed my hands back into shift about for obviousness sake, "with the expectation he or she will want to step right into Steve's shoes and be the next great hero this world needs."

Bucky blinked. "And you don't want that?"

"My wants don't matter. Other than wanting this kid to have his or her own life. What if she wants to be an architect? Or him an Olympian?"

"You saying to don't what her to know her dad was a hero?"

I shook my head. "Not saying that but... If the war hadn't happened what would Steve have done besides getting beat up in back alleyways?"

Bucky didn't even have to think before answering. "Art. Probably teach in the end. Then died at age thirty of the flu or something."

"Exactly. I won't let this one be forced to play the role of a hero if they don't want it. Enhanced or not."

He nodded slowly. "I get it, but how are you gonna manage that while in the middle of all this?" He gestured, the intent to capture all of the Compound and the heroes life I had fallen into.

"By leaving."

A frightening stillness came over him. "You don't mean that."

"I've been considering it. Live a comparatively normal life and give this kid a real chance to grow up just like everyone else."

"But he won't be like anyone else."

"How do you figure? They'll be a kid. Get teased. Have trouble with math. Climb trees and fall out of them. Just like every other kid. There are no differences unless you point them out." Not just considering, but seriously considering at this point. I had more than enough money to disappear and move anywhere on the planet and just be a family. Hell, my family would happily take me back in and play doting grandparents to the baby. They'd already threatened to do that and it had taken a serious effort of will to keep them at bay. While not thrilled with my single mom-to-be status, they understood that the father had passed during the fight against Thanos. No, I had not yet told them Steve Rogers was the father, but they had been far more sympathetic to my plight than I had ever imagined.

"And not get hurt. And be able to lift cars and-"

"We don't know that. No one knows what will happen. What the serum might do." I stalked away in no particular direction head down, fisted hands stretching out the pockets of the sweatshirt and once again wondering how the hell I was going to do this alone.

Less than ten seconds passed before Bucky's hand settled ever so gently on my shoulder. "Myla, stop, please."

"Why? So can tell me how I'm supposed to live my life too?" I didn't turn, didn't shrug off his hand like I wanted to. I simply waited to see what he would say or do next.

"No. Tell me how I can help."

I lifted my head and looked at him over my shoulder. At that serious face and serious eyes and the worry lines between his brow. "Christ, you really are a sucker for a damsel in distress aren't you?"

His lips twisted, corners turning up into what was almost a grin, but the look in his eyes didn't change. "Some more than others," he said softly. "How do you know about these plans for the wee one?"

"Tony found the files and showed 'em to me." I'd been angry for about an hour then just sad.

"Do you want to leave the Avengers? You've already proven you'd do fine in the private sector."

"Not really. I like it here and the work we do is important. But my focus is going to be changing in just a few months."

"Then stay. Just make it clear that their plans are not yours when it comes to the baby."

"And if they take her away from me?"

Bucky growled. "They'll regret it. Whatever you decide I'll be there for you. If you truly feel the need to run I can make a couple calls. I'm reasonably certain T'Challa would be more than willing to find a place for you and the baby." He shrugged. "Plus if you leave all of your people would follow... including me."

"No. You belong here."

"So do you. You go I go, got it, Doll?"

I nodded mutely, though why I should be surprised given he would have proposed had I not stopped him. "Duty?"

"That too. You're right. He or she deserves the chance to make their own way in life. Even if it would be kind of awesome to see them follow in their dad's footsteps. Boy or girl."

I spun a slow circle, my gaze taking in all of the Compound that I could see. No, I didn't want to leave, this place had become home in a way few others had in my life. Where I had met and, through sheer luck, I truly believed, fallen in love with Steve Rogers. "Will you help me make certain he or she knows Steve?" Tears pricked at my eyes. Missing him hadn't gotten any easier, it just didn't hit me quite as often these days.

"Of course, Doll. Every stupid story I can recall." He tossed that arm back over my shoulders, pulling me snugly against his side. "You really need to write that book."

I sniffled and rested my head on his shoulder. "Might as well. Someone needs to."

"Come on, let's get you inside and warmed up."

He got us turned about and headed back towards my suite.

 


End file.
